


Be Mine, Little Valentine

by kingsofeverything (FullOnLarrie)



Series: Tiny Penis Fics [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, Micropenis, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Small Penis, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-22 21:56:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17067869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullOnLarrie/pseuds/kingsofeverything
Summary: Louis wants to find someone who'll loveallof him. There's just one tiny complication.





	Be Mine, Little Valentine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YesIsAWorld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YesIsAWorld/gifts).



> Thank you to [Nic](http://louandhazaf.tumblr.com) for being amazing and also for betaing :D 
> 
> Hello! It's another tiny penis fic! [Here's the Tumblr post, if you'd like to reblog.](http://kingsofeverything.tumblr.com/post/181280748955/be-mine-little-valentine-by-fullonlarrie-all)
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> **If you’d like to translate any of my fics, feel free, but please post the translation on ao3.**
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>  **Please do not post this fic or any of my other fics on any other websites.**

8=• 

Louis Tomlinson is disproportionately proud of the size of his dick. The only thing that bothers him about having a small penis is the confusion it inevitably causes when people find out about it, and expect him to be sad or embarrassed or ashamed of it. 

He’s not. 

He loves it. 

It’s perfectly tiny, almost as if someone took an absolutely gorgeous specimen of a penis and shrunk it down to approximately one-third size, and added little balls to match. Even his pubic hair, which is short and soft and slightly auburn tinted, seems to be made to go along with his dick; the silky curls form a neat nest around the base.

What he needs is someone who loves his tiny penis as much as he does. What he keeps finding are complete idiots who can’t get past their own preconceived notions about size.

It’s gotten so bad that it’s now been a full year since the last time Louis got laid, and it wasn’t what he’d consider good, just a standard fuck on his hands and knees _and_ he’d had to jerk himself off because even that had been “too weird” for the guy, who up until they took their clothes off, was actually a wonderful date. Afterwards, Louis showed the guy to the door and avoided him on campus until graduation. 

After spending the time since earning his degree working nonstop and getting to know his new city, Louis is ready to try again. This time he has a plan. And so far, it’s working a little too well. He’s a few minutes early for his date, which is his usual M.O., get there early, secure a comfortable and somewhat private place to sit, do a quick shot of tequila to calm the nerves that the joint he smoked before leaving home didn’t settle, and practicing his opening line inside his head while waiting.

Approaching his table is a man who fits the description and picture from Louis’ most recently downloaded dating app: well over six feet tall, dirty blonde chin length hair, and built like a brick shithouse, which is _not_ Louis’ usual, but he’s expanding his horizons. His thinking is that someone who works out to be bigger and more muscular will be appreciative of _all things_ that make them seem even more so. Still, he no longer leaves these things to chance. 

“Hi,” Louis says in his most charming voice, standing from his seat and looking up at the man through his eyelashes as he shakes his hand. “I’m Louis. You must be Grant.”

“That’s me. Thought it was Lewis.” Grant pulls a chair out and drops down into it, scooting up close and leaning forward. 

“Stop.” Louis holds both hands up, palms facing out towards Grant, and says, “Listen. Before we, well… Before we start this date, I have to tell you something.”

“Oh…” Grant sits back, dropping his hands into his lap below the table, the same way they all do when Louis lets his voice take that tone, and he knows he sounds like he’s about to tell them something weighty, like he just got the news that his grandmother passed away, but it works. They’re prepared for the worst, but wind up getting hit with something way out of left field. So far, Louis has a zero percent success rate with how they handle the news. Or a one hundred percent success rate, if he looks at it from a different angle. 

Louis rests his forearms on the table and shifts forward in his seat a bit, looking down at his drink before lifting his head, catching Grant’s curious gaze, and stating plainly, “I have a tiny dick, Grant.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I…”

“That’s just it, Grant. I’m not. Not sorry at all. Now, do you think that’s something you might be into? Or no?” Louis taps his fingers on the table and sits back. This is the worst part, but he’s done it enough times at this point that he almost looks forward to it, because at least it’s over with quickly and he knows how the rest of his evening will go. Alone. “If you’re not into it, it’s fine. Go ahead and leave now and we’ll pretend this never happened, okay?” Slowly, Louis lifts his hands to cover his eyes. “I’ll count to ten. If you’re not here when I open my eyes, well… One. Two. Three. Four. Fi—”

Grant’s chair scrapes against the floor and Louis’ voice falters, but he continues to count. It helps to remind him what he’s doing and why.

“Ten.” Louis drops his hands and blinks, somehow still a little surprised to see the empty space in front of him. At least Grant left some cash. Louis drops the twenty in the bartender’s tip jar on his way out.

8=• 

Sometimes, he wishes he liked being alone. But he doesn’t. Ever since he was a kid, he’s always had to have someone’s attention, and back then it didn’t matter if it was his mom or his teacher or the school principal or the bus driver or the kids in the neighborhood who worshipped the ground he skateboarded on. As he got older, the source of the attention began to matter more, and while he still gets almost daily phone calls from his mom, and his friends still hang on his every word, now he really just wants the one thing he doesn’t have. 

The Christmas season is hard. He doesn’t usually feel pressured to have someone because he already plans to spend most of the holiday with his family, but he really misses dating, and it’s been years since he’s had a boyfriend, and this year is just… hard. 

New Year’s Eve is just as bad, if not worse, because it’s almost exclusively about couples, as if the single people all just fade into the background or cease to exist as soon as the sun goes down on December 31st and don’t appear again until it’s time for their hangovers to kick in the next morning.

But the absolute worst is Valentine’s Day.

For years, no matter how many times he tells his friends that he doesn’t care, that he doesn’t even celebrate it, that it’s a Hallmark holiday, that it means nothing, they don’t believe him. They think he’s _sad_ about it. So sad, in fact, that they have decided to throw a party on Valentine’s Day so that he doesn’t have to be alone. It’s possible he pouted a bit too much over the holiday season.

They haven’t said it, but Louis knows his friends. Zayn, his best friend since infancy who loves him like family, and who is head over heels in love with Liam—Louis’ freshman year roommate and second best friend ever since. Niall, Liam’s best friend from high school who seems to think there’s some sort of competition to be the first place best friend in Louis’ life. And Shawn, who’s been dating Niall long enough that Louis is already anxious for someone to propose. 

They’re all disgustingly in love and they want everyone else in the universe to be as well. Despite Louis’ insistence that he’s fine alone.

Which is why Louis finds himself angry from the first of February, when he finds out about the party, until Galentine’s Day night when he gets home after having too much wine while out to dinner with his mom. 

He’s wine drunk in the kitchen of his own apartment, pissed off at Zayn and Liam for ganging up on him and throwing a party in their shared apartment against Louis’ wishes. They’re probably fucking in their room, unaware that Louis is even home. At their door, Louis tilts his head and listens, holding his breath. 

They’re not fucking. They’re talking.

About Louis.

“Do you think Louis’ll scare everyone off talking about his dick?” Liam asks. As soon as Louis hears his name, he jerks back, feeling sober in a slightly panicked way, and so fucking resentful about this stupid Valentine’s party. 

All he wants to do on Valentine’s Day is go to work as usual, go home as usual, and maybe jerk off his tiny penis before going to bed at a reasonable hour so that he can get up to go back to work again in the morning.

In his room, he digs through his dresser until he finds a plain white t-shirt, then he goes back to the kitchen to rummage through the junk drawer for a red sharpie. He grabs a plate from the cupboard and puts it inside the shirt, centering it and setting it on the counter. As neatly as he can, Louis prints across the chest of his shirt:

**ASK ME ABOUT MY TINY PENIS**

Even though he writes in all capital letters, he still dots the i’s with hearts so that he’ll be dressed for the occasion. 

The next day, Louis goes to work as usual, comes home as usual, ignoring the red and pink and white paper hearts and streamers and balloons all over the apartment, and disappears into his bedroom, which he even cleaned in a fit of energy after making the t-shirt. He takes his time in the shower, washing the day off, and then gets himself off with a dildo pressed against his prostate and the image pressed against his eyelids of his tiny dick in a pretty, eager mouth. 

Considering how much wine he and his mom shared at Galentine’s Day dinner, he did a fairly neat job hand lettering his shirt. It’s still legible now that he’s sober. Zayn and Liam can’t even be mad at him. He told them he was planning to start every conversation with his most recent first date speil, so this is really just saving him time. With the red lettering and the extra hearts he drew all over the rest of the shirt, plus his tight white jeans turned up at the ankle, and his red slip-on Vans, he knows he looks good. 

He even wears a spritz of cologne and styles his hair so it’s artfully messy and swept to the side. They don’t expect him to come out willingly, so there’s no reason for him not to lay on his bed and watch Netflix while he waits for Zayn and Liam to come fetch him for their stupid party. 

Right on time, there’s a knock on Louis’ bedroom door. 

“Tommo?” Liam peeks around the door and Louis watches his body relax when he finds Louis dressed and ready, and then watches it tense right back up again when he sees the words on Louis’ shirt. “Are you serious?”

“Yep.” Louis shoves his hands in his pockets and says, “Now, let’s get this party started. I assume you’ve got people you’re just dying for me to meet.” 

It goes precisely the way that he intended. None of the single men at the party talk to Louis for more than a few minutes. Some of the women do, but only because they’re better conversationalists and Louis isn’t trying to sleep with them. If the rest of the night pans out the way he plans, Louis will be in bed and asleep by ten o’clock. 

Because he has to be at work the following morning, Louis allows himself one Louis-sized glass of wine, which is approximately equal to one third of a bottle. He’s been carrying the same glass around, sipping from it all night long. He’s virtually sober. And kind of bored. 

The novelty of the reaction to his shirt has worn off and now he’s done. He doesn’t even want the rest of his wine, so he takes it to the kitchen to get rid of it. Except, as soon as he turns the corner, he also walks into the person standing just inside the kitchen, and spills his remaining red wine all over them.

“Oops! Fuck! I’m so sorry!” Louis rushes over to the sink with the glass and sets it down, grabbing a roll of paper towels and wrapping it around his hand as he walks back across the room. The wadded up paper absorbs a good bit of wine when Louis pushes against the man’s stomach. “I’m so, so sorry,” Louis says, finally looking up at his victim. 

What a way to end the day.

Standing in front of Louis, drenched in Cabernet, is the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. A bit taller than Louis, just enough that he has to tip his chin a little to meet his eyes, which are a vibrant shade of green Louis isn’t sure he’s seen before. His dark hair curls around his ears and when he pushes it off his forehead, the curls flop over to the side, looking just as dishevelled as before. When he smiles, Louis can’t look away from his wide, pink mouth, and the dimple in his cheek. And when the smile fades and he bites his lower lip with his two front teeth, Louis thinks he might need to lie down.

“Hi, um… It’s okay. I’m not hurt,” the man says, taking the paper towels from Louis and patting them over his stomach a few more times. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” No. “Yes, I’m fine. Sorry. Again.” Louis gestures vaguely at the wet shirt in front of him and says, “I can wash it.” The black shirt doesn’t even show a wine stain but Louis can’t stop talking. “We have a washer. I’m Louis, by the way. Bet you didn’t expect to come to a lame Valentine’s Day party on a Thursday evening _and_ get doused with wine.” 

“Oh, I… No? I… I’m Harry.” He extends his hand for Louis to take and when Louis glances down at it, he sees his own shirt in his peripheral vision, but only falters for a second.

“Nice to meet you, Harold.” 

With his chin to his chest, Harry pulls on the fabric of his shirt, starting to unbutton it.

Louis gently takes his wrist and walks him down the hallway. “Are you a guest of Liam’s or Zayn’s?”

“Niall’s actually. We work together. I just started in January.”

“Oh, well. Nice to meet you friend of Niall’s from work.” Louis attempts to avert his eyes when Harry takes his shirt off and hands it over, but it’s impossible. 

As a diversionary tactic, Louis talks himself through starting the washing machine as if he were trying to sell it to someone.

“The three of us went in on this machine. It’s a high-efficiency top-loader,” Louis explains as he opens the lid, glancing at Harry’s bare chest and abs for a split second. Harry points at Louis, opening his mouth to speak, and Louis _knows_ he’s about to ask about his tiny dick, but he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore tonight, so he barrels on. “That means it uses less water, but it’s also easier on fabrics because there’s no agitator.” Reaching up for the Tide Pods, Louis snatches them off the shelf, and after three tries, he manages to open the childproof closure, and fishes one out of the bag, holding it in his open palm. “Would you like to do the honors?”

“I, um…” Harry looks from Louis’ face to his shirt and then unmistakably drops his gaze to Louis’ crotch before meeting his eyes again, line between his eyebrows deepening as he tilts his head to the side. “You—”

“Too late!” Louis laughs maniacally, cutting Harry off before he can ask about his tiny penis, and tosses the Tide Pod into the washer, dropping the lid, and pushing the button to start it. 

He leads Harry to his own room, where he pulls open a drawer to look for a t-shirt large enough to fit Harry. 

“If you were friends with Z or Li, I’d give you their clothes, but since you’re with Niall, you’ll have to settle for…” Twisting free the fabric of two shirts that seem to have somehow mated while in his drawer takes a moment, then he hands Harry one of his larger black t-shirts. 

“Thanks, Louis,” Harry mutters, looking at the shirt in his hands for a second before pulling it over his head. “About your shirt? Did you lose a bet or something?”

Louis actually looks down. Even though he knows exactly what he’s wearing and exactly what Harry means. He still looks down because he needs to collect himself before he does this one more time tonight. With Harry it’ll feel a little different, though he’s not sure why. 

“No,” Louis says sharply. “I really do have a tiny penis.”

“Oh… I didn’t know— I mean, I…” 

“It’s fine.” Louis crosses his arms, obscuring the lettering on his shirt even though they both know now. “You can, um… go. You don’t have to hang out with me. Can keep the shirt, too.”

“But I…” 

It’s easier with his eyes closed. 

Slowly, Louis lifts his hands to cover his eyes and says, “I have a tiny dick. If you’re not into it, it’s fine. Go ahead and leave now and we’ll pretend this never happened, okay? I’ll count to ten. If you’re still here when I open my eyes, well… One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.”

Louis sighs and drops his head, lowering his arms and blinking his eyes open to look down at his shoes. There’s a scuffed pair of the ugliest yellow loafers Louis has ever seen just a few inches in front of his red vans. 

“I said you can go,” Louis whispers hoarsely.

“I know,” Harry whispers back. 

Eyes snapping up to meet Harry’s, Louis takes a step back, stopping when he recognizes the dark flush on Harry’s cheeks. “Are you into it?” 

Louis has found that a lot of the guys who claim to be okay with it actually pretend like it’s invisible, though some of them seem to almost be afraid of it as if it were something contagious. The only ones who’ve actually _seemed_ into it once they have their clothes off are more interested in trying to humiliate Louis, as if he’s embarrassed about his tiny cock. 

Nodding jerkily while he bites his lower lip, Harry somehow manages to hold eye contact. 

“You’re serious?”

Harry nods, quicker and more sure this time. 

“Wait…” Louis holds up one finger, wagging it slightly. “I’m not into like, it being made fun of. That’s not it, I—”

“No, no, I wouldn’t.” Harry rushes his words out, moving towards Louis, then freezing midstep.

“You mean if we fucked, you’d want to touch it like any other dick?”

“Well, I mean, not any other dick. And I’d like—” Harry stops, cheeks burning pinker than before. “I don’t know what it looks like, obviously, but you’re gorgeous, and I can’t imagine any part of you as _not_ gorgeous, and I, um… I’d want to touch it the same way I want to touch the rest of you.”

“Fuck. Okay. Let’s do it,” Louis says, launching himself at Harry and catching the corner of his lips in a kiss. 

“Wait.” Harry plants his hands on Louis’ hips and pushes to separate them a bit. “Are you like, only into one night stands? Because I’m… I don’t want to just like, fuck? I’d like to get to know you. Take you out.”

“You want to date me?” 

“Yes?”

“And you don’t care that I not only _have_ a tiny dick, but that I also wore a shirt inviting you to ask me about it to a Valentine’s Day party?”

“No? Yes? Wait. I…” Harry holds up one finger and closes his eyes. “I do care. Like, I like it? I didn’t—”

“You like it?”

“Yeah, like, I… I never really thought about it, I guess, but my ex was small and I…” Harry turns his head and coughs into his fist, clearing his throat, and Louis watches the skin of his neck flush darker pink. When he drops his shaking hand and looks back to Louis, his eyes are shining and he chews on his lower lip for a few seconds. “I got off on it. Like just how little it looked next to mine or holding it.” Extending his hand in front of him and curling his fingers, as if he’s actually holding a cock in his hand, Harry blinks at Louis, eyes wide. 

“How small?” Louis has to ask. This all sounds way too good to be true.

Harry rubs his chin, pinches his lower lip and tugs at it, and Louis gets a little lost in the pink tint of Harry’s mouth. “Five inches? Maybe less? Not sure.”

Louis scoffs and rolls his eyes. Men. He knew Harry was too good to be true. “Five inches is average.”

“Oh. I… How big is yours?”

“Did you seriously just ask me that?”

“I mean, yeah? Your shirt says ‘ask me about my tiny penis’ so I figured—”

“Smartass. Two inches soft, two and a half fully erect.”

“Really?” Harry’s voice comes out squeaky and when Louis nods, Harry covers his mouth with his hand. “Can I… Can I ask… Is it like… You can come and stuff?”

“Yes, I can come. I don’t know about ‘stuff’ but other than being tiny, my dick and balls are normal. Just like yours probably, only smaller. Anything else? Or are you done with the questions?”

“Oh, sorry. I… I thought you wanted to talk about it.” Harry holds his hands out, palms up, gesturing at Louis’ shirt. 

“Right. Well, it’s not like I wear this shirt regularly. It’s a special occasion.” Louis points back towards the noise of the party. “Typically, I get rejected maybe once, maybe twice a month. But tonight? You make an even dozen.”

Louis tries to meet people through various dating and hookup apps, but listing his tiny penis in his description and his opinion of it hasn’t done much to weed out the assholes. Meeting people in person so that they have to reject an actual human being instead of a picture on a screen was Louis’ way of taking back some control, and the shirt tonight was his over the top attempt at getting his friends to stay out of his personal life. He went into the evening expecting nothing but a few laughs about his shirt and an early bedtime, so if Harry will go ahead and leave, he can get on with it.

“I’m not… I don’t… I’m not rejecting you? I just said I want to date you.” Harry frowns and looks from side to side. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but before, when you thought small meant five inches.”

“No, I don’t… I do. I mean… Just… This is kind of a lot for me? You make me super nervous. I’m like, sweaty and kind of… tingly feeling? Maybe I should sit down, actually.”

The bed is only a few feet away, so within seconds Harry sits down heavily on the edge of the mattress, rubbing his fingers against his temples, and while seeing Harry on his bed is simultaneously the best and worst thing that Louis has ever witnessed, he watches on wondering what exactly Harry has had to drink this evening. 

“You’re just really, um… gorgeous? Like beautiful and it’s intimidating. You’re— Oh my god, I’m on your bed!” Harry hops up and stumbles over the air, careening into Louis who catches him purely on instinct before righting him and stepping back. 

“Harry, sit.” While he waits for Harry to sit and focus on him, Louis balls his hands into fists and releases them, hoping to gather the capacity to barrel through this, because there is no way this is actually happening in real life, so he might as well. “I don’t _just_ have a tiny penis. I love my dick. Like, I’m proud of it.” 

Pausing to let it sink in, Louis studies Harry’s face. The line between his eyebrows that Louis feels the inexplicable need to touch and to help relax; the green of his eyes, vivid even in the dim lamplight of Louis’ bedroom; the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead and cheeks; the shadow of his jawline, and the shifting muscles as he moves his mouth; his pink tongue as he swipes the tip of it over his lips, back and forth. 

“Tell me…” Harry clears his throat again, but his voice still trembles. “Please, um… Will you tell me… I…”

“You want me to tell you about my tiny dick?” Harry nods so fast that Louis snorts which makes them both slap their hands to their mouths. Slowly, Louis lowers his hand until just the tips of his fingers touch his mouth, smile stretching across his face as he walks closer to Harry where he sits on the bed. “You want me to tell you that I think my penis is perfect?” 

Louis’ voice is so quiet that he’s unsure if Harry hears him at all, but a second later Harry asks, “Is it?”

Nodding, Louis sits down beside Harry on the bed, his entire body feels warm and his limbs are a little shaky as well. Harry watches him, eyes shining, and Louis breathes, “Yes.”

“How? Tell me. I—”

Louis shushes him and lays his hand on Harry’s thigh. “Do you want to see?”

“Yes!” Harry jumps off of the bed again, spinning around to face Louis with his hands to his cheeks and his mouth open. “Sorry! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m just… Can I kiss you? Can we— Like, I’m dying here. You’re— God, I’m so embarrassed. Embarrassing. Fuck.”

“Shut the door and come here.” Louis kicks off his shoes and scoots backwards up the bed, stacking his pillows against the middle of the headboard, reclining on them, and trying to calm his racing heart. The lock clicks and Harry’s steps stutter as he crosses the small space between the door and the bed, where he stands, gazing down at Louis. 

Beautiful and adorably nervous, when Louis pats the mattress, Harry clambers onto the bed, not stopping until he’s straddling Louis’ lap. He cups Louis’ jaw in his hands and though they aren’t steady, Harry leans forward, and Louis notices the gold flecks in his eyes just before they blink closed and Harry’s lips collide with his. 

First kisses are never smooth and it seems like Harry’s probably clumsy on a good day, but what he lacks in initial coordination, he makes up for once their noses are properly lined up. While Harry focuses on Louis’ lips, Louis lets his hands wander over Harry’s back, palms flat as they slide down, curving around Harry’s ribs, fingertips trailing under the hem of his t-shirt. The skin of his lower back is warm, erupting in goosebumps at Louis’ touch, and Harry groans into Louis’ mouth, pulling back to catch his breath. 

Harry’s grey plaid trousers are loose and when he sits back and his dick stretches the fabric in front indecently, Louis reaches for it, pressing the heel of his hand against it. 

“You’re big.” 

“Yeah…” Harry says, hips bucking up against Louis’ hand which he squeezes quickly before lifting his hands to Harry’s face, swiping his thumb across his lower lip. 

“Want to fuck me?” Louis asks and Harry gasps, clutching his hands to his chest, and a laugh bursts out of Louis. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes!” Harry fans himself with both of his hands and Louis laughs again, letting his head fall back against the wood of the headboard. “Clothes!” 

While Louis watches, Harry climbs backwards off the bed and pulls Louis’ t-shirt off, carefully folding it and setting it back on top of Louis’ dresser. He slips his loafers off and Louis grins when he sees heavy athletic socks on Harry’s feet, which he waits to remove after he drops his trousers to the floor, and which almost distract from the fact that Harry wasn’t wearing any underwear under his pants. 

Harry looks up and a frown appears instantly. “You’re not naked.”

“No. Did you want me to be?” Louis asks and Harry nods. “Then you ought to take my clothes off.”

Dick bobbing in the air, Harry crawls up the bed over Louis’ legs, pushing the hem of Louis’ sharpie-covered t-shirt up until it catches under his arms and he lifts them to let Harry pull it over his head. Fixing his hair while Harry is distracted by his bare skin and playing with Louis’ nipples, Louis tries to mentally prepare himself for the big reveal. 

Harry’s lips leave kisses across the skin just above the waistband of Louis’ white jeans, popping the button on his second pass under Louis’ belly button, and pulling the zipper down on his third. He hooks his fingers through Louis’ belt loops and peels Louis’ jeans down bit by bit, revealing the pale blue satin of his underwear.

“Panties?” Harry whimpers and without waiting for Louis’ answer, he continues the slow removal of Louis’ jeans. 

Louis loves his tiny penis, and he also loves pampering it: combing and fluffing the curls around the base; wearing soft, pretty, lacy underwear almost every day; and taking what some might consider an obsessive number of dick pics which he’s not yet shared with anyone. 

With Louis’ jeans halfway down his thighs, Harry pauses, letting his eyes travel up to Louis’ face, and ducking his chin when he finds Louis looking back at him, hand on resting on his chest as he thumbs his own nipple. 

“So pretty.” Harry tugs the tight denim down Louis’ calves, breath catching when Louis bends his knees to make it easier for Harry to get his jeans completely off. 

Once Harry tosses them to the floor, and Louis is left in nothing but a few square inches of blue satin, the pure hunger in Harry’s gaze makes heat bloom in Louis’ stomach. No one’s ever looked at him like that before, with desire so clear that there’s no mistaking it for anything else, but it’s softened by Harry’s obvious nervousness as he sits at Louis’ feet, legs folded and tucked under his bum, gnawing on his lip. 

“Harry?” Louis lifts and wiggles his toes, poking Harry in the knee. 

As soon as Harry looks up, their eyes meet, and then Harry looks down at his lap, asking quietly, “Do you think mine’ll look okay next to yours?”

“Do I—” Louis stomach flips as it hits him that, not only is Harry turned on simply by the idea of Louis’ tiny penis, he’s worried that his own dick is somehow not good enough for Louis, which is ridiculous. He wiggles his toes again, this time nudging Harry’s knees until he parts them and Louis can straighten his legs out between them. 

Keeping his eyes on Harry’s dick, thick and long and curving just slightly to the right, standing proudly from a thatch of curls even darker than the ones on his head, Louis says, “Fuck. Got a fantastic cock, baby.”

“Can I…” Harry traces the thin ribbon of blue satin that stretches over Louis’ hips. “Can I look?”

When Louis nods, Harry pinches the satin on either side, and Louis automatically lifts his hips off the bed so that Harry can get them past his bum more easily, but the second they reveal Louis’ tiny penis, Harry stops, staring at it. 

“It’s so _small,”_ Harry says, so happily, as if he didn’t truly believe it until he saw for himself, and he’s so fucking cute that Louis can’t do anything but laugh.

“I did tell you.”

“It’s perfect.” Glancing up from Louis’ tiny penis, Harry smiles bigger than he has all evening, and dimples materialize in his cheeks, but a second later the smile drops off his face and he touches the tips of his fingers to his lips. “Oh my god, you’re perfect.”

“Far from it.” Louis’ stomach flips and he rolls his eyes fondly, pushing his panties down to just above his knees where Harry’s been hovering. “You’re sweet.”

Harry shakes his head once, blinking rapidly, and moves to the side, sliding them down Louis’ legs and off, before shuffling back up the bed on his knees. He slings one leg over Louis and with his chin to his chest he watches, carefully lining Louis’ tiny penis up underneath his own, and sits down on the tops of his thighs. 

“It’s… I covered it up.” Harry looks up at Louis and back down, lifts his own dick up, and then pushes it down against Louis’ little cock. The warmth and pressure cause Louis’ dick to jump and Harry’s eyebrows shoot up when Louis’ tiny penis twitches against his. He points to Louis’ nightstand and when Louis nods, he lunges for it, muttering, “Gonna fuck you. Oh my god, you want me to fuck you. Gonna fuck you so good.”

“Yeah?” Louis rolls onto his stomach while he can and rests his head on his arms. 

After the mattress settles, Harry sucks in a breath and his hands are heavy and warm as he gently kneads the muscles. “Your ass. I want… This isn’t fair.”

Louis can hear him pouting, so he looks back over his shoulder, raising a single eyebrow. 

“Next time? Can I fuck you like this next time?” Harry smooths his hand over Louis’ bum. “Just, I’d rather have you on your back, ’cause like, I can see your little dick.”

Stuck on Harry’s casual mention that there’ll be a next time, Louis brain hasn’t caught up yet, and Harry must take his silence as disapproval. 

Harry rushes out, “And your face! That’s… Thats important too. More important? Fuck.” Burying his face in his hands, Harry groans miserably, and Louis decides to just roll onto his back instead of trying to explain. 

“You can fuck me from behind next time.” Louis lifts his leg and taps his foot against Harry’s arm. “You really want to be able to see it while we fuck?”

“Yeah. Is that okay?” When Louis nods, Harry says, “I want to hold it. See how it fits in my hand. Wonder if I could jerk you off with my thumb and one finger.”

Pulling a pillow to his face, Louis lets loose a moan, and when he’s quiet again, he hits Harry in the shoulder with the pillow until he grabs it, and as soon as he does, Louis lifts his hips so Harry can put the pillow underneath him. “Get in me. You can try the one finger thing later.”

“Fuck. Okay.” Harry hasn’t stopped staring at Louis’ tiny penis and Louis assumes that he won’t and closes his eyes, trying to decide if he thinks it’s a good thing or a bad thing that he fucked himself on his dildo in the shower earlier that evening. 

Practiced motions come easily as Louis skims his hands down his own chest, pinching his nipples until they’re hard and spreading his fingers apart as they move down his torso, thumbs on either side of his little dick. He touches himself the way he would if he were alone, lightly trailing the tip of his finger over his balls and up the underside of his dick, circling around his slit, and stroking himself with two fingers and a thumb. 

Louis knows what it looks like, miniature erection standing perpendicular to his body, knows it looks smaller being held by him, and knows Harry’s hands will make his tiny penis seem even more minuscule. 

When he opens his eyes, Harry hasn’t moved at all, and seems to be frozen in place except for the slow stroke of his hand over his own cock. 

“Can I touch?” Harry asks.

Nodding, Louis lets go of his tiny penis and raises his arms, resting them on the pillow above his head. He blinks and chuckles quietly at Harry who seems to want nothing more than to touch Louis’ tiny cock, but is too hesitant to do it. 

Harry reaches toward Louis’ tiny penis, and with the slightest pressure, touches the very tip of his index finger to the little bead of precome at the slit, making Louis’ hips buck up. He snatches his finger back. 

The blush that was so pretty on Harry’s cheeks comes back, but this time Louis gets to watch as it works its way up his chest and neck, while Harry extends his hand again, bolder this time. Forming a circle around Louis’ tiny penis with his fingers and thumb, Harry closes his fist until it’s tight around Louis’ little dick, and jacks it using just a quick flick of his wrist.

“Is that good?” The crease between Harry’s eyebrows deepens and the tip of his tongue pokes out between his lips as he concentrates on his movements, jerking them both. 

“Yeah. Fuck.” Louis cranes his neck, but his tiny penis is completely engulfed in Harry’s right hand. The difference between that and Harry’s left hand, where his fingers don’t make a complete circle around his own dick makes Louis’ little penis pulse with pleasure. “You fucking me or what?”

Both of Harry’s hands let go and while Harry holds his hands up, Louis watches their penises moving from inertia, Harry’s swinging like an obscene pendulum as he shifts his body, while Louis’ barely wobbles a few times before standing straight up again. 

Sliding the palms of his hands up the back of Louis’ thighs, Harry pushes them down and apart gently, and Louis replaces Harry’s hands with his own, holding himself open. 

“You’re so hot,” Harry mutters while he drizzles lube on his fingers, glancing up and catching Louis’ eye before looking back down again. The pad of Harry’s thumb slides from just behind Louis’ little balls, over the skin of Louis’ crack, circling once and pressing against his rim, before replacing it with the tip of his index finger, which slides in effortlessly. “Love your body. So tight on my finger, but you took it so easy.”

“Fucked myself with a dildo before the party, so…” 

Harry stills, finger deep inside Louis, and asks, “You sore?” Louis shakes his head. “You can come again?” Louis nods and Harry pulls his hand back, pushing in with two slick fingers, alternately pumping them and scissoring them. “Love your pretty little dick. Can’t wait to make you come. God… Can I… Can I suck you?” 

“Yes, yes, yes. Fuck. Your mouth is so—” Louis throws his head back and moans when Harry swipes his tongue over Louis’ tiny penis from root to tip before sucking him in. Leaning on his elbow, Harry uses that hand to help hold Louis still, fingers spread out over his stomach, while he massages Louis’ little dick with his tongue, then opens his mouth wide and takes Louis’ balls in as well, sucking all of him at the same time. 

After a moment, he releases Louis’ balls and goes back to sucking his tiny dick, pressing his lips into a tight circle and bobbing up and down minutely. A third finger joins the first two and Harry flicks his tongue against the head of Louis’ cock, making his body jerk. 

Louis catches his breath and says, “Get your cock in me, Harry.”

Harry parts his lips and and lifts his head off of Louis’ little dick, licking at the tip once more before sitting back and slipping his fingers free. With the condom on, Harry lines up, the head of his cock popping inside when he shifts his hips forward, sliding the rest of his dick in inch by inch. It’s a stretch, but a pleasurable one, and when Louis reaches down to take hold of himself, Harry bats his hand away.

Palm up, Harry lays his hand just under Louis’ belly button, and hooks his thumb around Louis’ tiny penis, trapping it against his palm and stroking his thumb up and down the short shaft, while he grinds his hips against Louis’ ass. 

“So tiny in my hand.” Harry pulls back and drives forward again, building up a quicker rhythm. Looking down, his dick looks so little in the palm of Harry’s hand, smaller than the thumb Harry keeps massaging it with. Because that’s what he’s doing. Rubbing circles on the underside of Louis’ little dick, pressing it into his palm, working Louis over slowly. 

“Fuck. That’s so good.” Louis pulls on the backs of his knees, spreading his legs further apart and tipping his pelvis so that Harry hits his prostate the next time he thrusts inside. Able to the control the angle himself, Louis whimpers every time the head of Harry’s cock bumps against his spot. Harry sits back a bit and moves Louis’ hands, throwing Louis’ legs over his arms and leaning back down over Louis to capture his lips in an unexpected kiss. 

Louis kisses him back a second later, lifting his head to get more of Harry’s mouth, and stretching his arms above his head to push against the wall, meeting Harry’s hips as well as he can, and crying out when Harry tightens his hand into a fist that Louis has no choice but to fuck into. He comes the next time Harry nails his prostate, and Harry catches all of it in his hand, working him through his orgasm, and licking Louis’ come from his fingers. Gingerly, he pulls out, jerking himself off with the condom still on.

“Can I come on you?” Harry asks, breathlessly, hand a blur over his cock. 

“Yeah.” Louis grabs his legs and pulls his knees up, but Harry shakes his head and Louis lowers his legs back down to the mattress. 

After peeling off the condom, Harry strokes himself faster, kneeling between Louis’ legs, eyes flickering between Louis’ face and his tiny dick. A strangled groan leaves Harry’s throat as he comes, angling his cock so that almost every drop lands on Louis’ little cock and balls. Chest heaving, Harry crawls backwards and falls forward, hands on Louis’ hips holding him down while he licks him clean. 

Harry rolls over onto his back and scoots up the bed so that he and Louis are side by side, shoulder to shoulder. “That was amazing.” 

“Yeah?” Louis lolls his head to the side and the grin on Harry’s face when he nods makes his stomach flip. “You work in the morning?”

“Gross. Yes. At seven.” Harry starts to sit up. “Guess I should go home.”

“Wait. You, um…” Louis pulls him back down by his shoulder and Harry rolls onto his side to face him. “You can stay. Like, if you want. Sleep here and just get up early and go home before you go to work.”

“I can?” 

“Yeah, I mean, kind of hoping it’s the first of many sleepovers.”

Harry dives in to kiss him again, pressing soft lips to Louis’ cheek and jaw and neck and chin before finally kissing Louis’ waiting mouth, and whispering, “Be my Valentine?”

With a laugh, Louis leans up to kiss Harry’s forehead. “Of course.”

“I call little spoon.” Harry lifts his hand as if he expects Louis to refuse him, so Louis high-fives his raised hand and nods.

“Your shirt needs to go in the dryer.” Louis reaches for his phone and sends a message to Zayn and Liam demanding that they put Harry’s shirt in the dryer as an apology for making him endure the party. He shows Harry the message and sighs. “I’m sticky with lube, but I don’t want either of us to go back out there to get to the bathroom.”

“Could lick you clean.” Harry’s tongue darts out of his mouth and he raises his eyebrows.

Louis groans and shoves at Harry’s chest. “Maybe in the morning.” After a quick nod, Harry sits up, leaning off the side of the bed until he can grab his pants. He finds his phone, tapping at the screen. “What are you doing?”

“Setting my alarm half an hour early.” He sets his phone on the nightstand and hops up off the bed, pulls the comforter down almost taking Louis with it, and climbs back under the sheets. Louis watches him while he makes himself comfortable on his side, facing away, bunching the pillow under his head, and peeking back over his shoulder until Louis fits himself behind him. He looks forward again and Louis buries his nose in the back of Harry’s curls, giggling when Harry says, “Twenty minutes of rimming and a ten minute walk home.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
